Sunlight blared through the dorm window, landing squarely on Nola's face, threatening to blind her.
She groaned softly and rolled over, only to see Maika was already awake as she held a chart in her hand, reading it carefully.
"Good morning," Maika mumbled, eyes barely visible over the parchment.
"Hope you're ready to die slowly and painfully through the academic overload."
Nola sat up, rubbing her eyes. "What's that?"
"New timetables," Maika said grimly. "They're personalized now. It is based on our Wills. Yay."
Nola took hers with a wary glance and immediately noticed it looked nothing like her old school schedules.
The headings weren't just things like "History" or "Science".
They were things like Blade Memory, Combat Ethics, Martial Conditioning, and Foundational Spellcraft – Basic.
She blinked. "Why do I only have one spellcraft class?"
Maika rolled over and pointed dramatically at her own schedule.
"Because I got all of them. Look! Look at this horror! How am I supposed to study all this." She thrust her parchment toward Nola.
It read:
Advanced Spell Theory. Elemental Channeling. Familiar Summoning. Ritual Ethics. Alchemy Basics. Ancient Tongues (Optional)
"And this one," Maika groaned, pointing at the last class, "Intro to Transmutation. Sounds fun until you realize it's just math with sequences."
Nola snorted. "So you're stuck with homework, and I'm stuck with bruises."
"Exactly," Maika joked. "You're going to become terrifyingly buff, and I'm going to lose vision in one eye reading some strange runes backwards."
There was a knock at the door.
It was Brielle, already dressed in black training gear, her hair braided back and laced with gold thread.
"Let's go, sword ghost," she said to Nola with a warm smirk. "Physical Enhancement is the first period. You don't want to be late. The instructor throws spears."
Nola blinked. "That's… not a metaphor?"
"Nope," Taveer said from behind her, holding an apple and a wooden practice sword. "They really throw them. But they don't aim to hit… usually."
"Great," Nola muttered, but something inside her stirred, like she felt an odd thrill. Like her muscles already remembered something she hadn't taught them yet.
The training arena sat in one of the lower courtyards of the Central Tower.
It was a circular pit of dark stone with weapon racks, sand pits, and floating weight markers.
Nola lined up with a dozen others. Brielle stood on one side of her, arms crossed. Taveer stretched silently on the other.
Their instructor was a tall woman with braided silver hair and arms like steel cables. She paced slowly across the sand.
"I am Instructor Sharis," she said, her voice high and commanding. "You will not use magic here. You will train your bodies until they do not need your mind to act."
A few students glanced around, uneasy.
"Speed. Strength. Reflex. This class does not make legends. It ensures legends survive long enough to matter."
She pointed to a rack of weights. "We begin with resistance enchantment sprints. Pair up. Move fast."
Brielle grabbed Nola's wrist. "You're with me."
The spell-enhanced weights attached to their backs like iron shadows. Nola staggered at first, but Brielle didn't slow down.
She ran beside her, steady and constant, like a heartbeat you could pace yourself against.
"Breathe deeper and use your legs, not your knees," Brielle called. "Good. Try it again."
By the third lap, Nola thought her lungs would collapse. But she looked over and Brielle was smiling like she was a proud mother.
Later, during swordwork drills, Taveer took over.
He didn't talk much but he adjusted Nola's grip gently when she fumbled.
"Looser fingers. It's not about muscle. It's about flow."
She nodded, watching how his blade moved. Tight, efficient and controlled.
Vlad's influence showed. It wasn't flashy. It was deadly.
"You're improving already," he said quietly as they rotated partners. Nola flushed.
"Thanks. I didn't think I'd like this part."
Taveer offered the ghost of a smile. "You were made for it. You just didn't know yet."
After class, they collapsed on the sun-warmed steps of the fountain behind the courtyard.
Brielle handed Nola a flask of water and sat beside her, one leg stretched out, the other bent like she was ready to spring into motion again.
Taveer leaned against the stone ledge a little ways off, rolling his shoulder with a practiced wince.
Nola took a long sip. "I didn't know I could sweat this much."
"You didn't whine once," Brielle said. "You're already doing better than Maika would've."
"She'd be melting in a dramatic heap right about now," Nola agreed.
They both laughed, and Taveer opened one eye lazily.
"She'd cast a cooling charm on herself and fake a faint just to get out of laps," he added.
"Honestly, smart," Brielle said. "But you? You didn't quit. That matters."
Nola glanced at her. "You're kind of like… a training mom."
Brielle raised an eyebrow. "Training mom?"
"Yeah. Supportive, scary, and always watching to make sure I don't break my spine."
Brielle laughed for real this time. It was a warm and clear sound.
"I'll take that. Just don't expect me to braid your hair or bake cookies."
Taveer pushed off the ledge and walked over, crouching in front of Nola as she tried to unbuckle the weighted gear from her calves.
"Let me," he said.
She hesitated, but then nodded.
His hands were sure, precise, working the clasps with quiet ease. He didn't say anything at first, but the silence didn't feel awkward. It felt grounding.
"You're overcompensating," he said, glancing up at her. "You shift too far forward when you swing. You're expecting to mess up."
Nola frowned. "I'm just trying not to fall on my face."
"That's the problem," he said softly. "You're trying not to fail. You should be trying to land the strike."
He stood up, handed her the loosened straps, and dusted off his hands.
"But you're close. You've got instinct. That's rarer than skill."
Nola didn't know what to say. She just nodded.
"Thanks."
Taveer nodded back once and walked a few steps away again. Not out of disinterest but to give her space. He seemed to understand that she needed it.
Brielle nudged her gently.
"You've got a good little crew now," she said. "One sword ghost, one training mom, and one vampire prince with a grudge against bad form."
Nola leaned back and let the sun warm her face.
"I think I'm starting to like it here," she whispered.
And she meant it.